What should a person think when going, lo aleinu, to Tanchumei Avelim?
ANSWER:
He's going to say to them words, he mumbles the words Hamakom Yenachem Eschem; unfortunately he doesn't think what he's saying and they don't think what he's saying, but these are very important words. He's saying we're all aveilim, we're all aveilim! We're mourning for Yerushalayim. How can we be happy if Yerushalayim is in the hands of gentiles, the Bais Hamikdash is not in existence, the Malchus Bais Dovid is not there, the Shechina departed from us, we're all mourning. It's a very important lesson! So when you console him, after all you say tzoras raabim chatzi nechama, if everybody else is suffering, so your suffering is just part of the natural universal suffering of our Nation, we're all sad.
Now it says, tov laleches el bais eivel mei'leches el beis mishteh, it's better to go to the house of an avel than to go to a wedding. You go to a wedding, some people come out of the wedding drunk, and some come out confused, wasting time, leitsonus; of course it doesn't have to be that way, but it could be. When you go to a house of an avel, v'hachai yiten el libo, you learn the lesson of life that this world is only a prosdor lifnei ha'olam habah, this world is only a vestibule, a lobby before the world to come. That's a tremendous lesson that no matter how many times you hear the lesson, it's not enough. It's a tremendous lesson, that we're in this world only to prepare for our career, our main career is only in the world to come. So as you walk out of the house of the avel, you're thinking, from now on I'm going to get busy! As long as I can still walk, I can still talk, I'm going to accomplish something for myself as long as I'm still alive.
Now pay attention to the next thought: When you walk out of the house of the avel, hachai yiten el libo, you should think how lucky I am that I'm alive, and breathe deeply. Ahhhh, it's a pleasure to breathe air, pleasure to see the sunlight, tov l'einyaim liros es hashemesh, a pleasure to be alive, the happiness of life. When you go out of the bais avel get a new lease of life, a new understanding of the simchas hachayim. Now most people wouldn't like that idea, you go out of a house of an avel and you gain simcha? But that is one of the great lessons.
If you don't understand how lucky you are that you're alive in this world then you're missing the great lesson of chasdei Hashem.
Good Shabbos To All
This email is transcribed from questions that were posed to Harav Miller by the audience at the Thursday night lectures.
To listen to the audio of this Q & A please dial: 201-676-3210
What should one tell his wife or his daughters when they are influenced by styles to wear garments that are not according to tznius?
ANSWER:
Now that's a painful question to ask. Why do I say painful? Because the question should have never been asked. As soon as a man marries there's no doubt that he should lay down the law, this is how it's going to be. If the question is asked however by a person who married somebody when they were not frum and later became frum, so the question is, what to do then.
Now let's talk what happens however when someone decides to adjust themselves, so he has to explain to his wife and daughters. Look, I see you're very careful with milchig and fleishig; two sets of dishes. That's a kedusha, that's a holiness in the Jewish house, like it says in the Chumash, (Devorim 14.21) ki am kadosh ato la'shem elokecho lo sevashiel gedi bachaleiv imo, to keep milchig and fleishig separate you're an am kadosh. Where do you find such things? A nation that has two sets of dishes, and it's such a job to keep it apart, and they don't eat them together, they have to wait after fleishig to eat milchig. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. This your wife and your daughters appreciate, they understand that, and they are sometimes more kanoi (fanatic) then you are. "Don't do it, don't touch it they say, you're making it fleishig".
You have to explain to them however, that a dress that's not tzniusdik is a hundred times worse than milchig and fleishig mixed together. Milchig and fleishig is a matter of kedusha, it's not called tumah however, it's assur. Arayos is called tumah, immorality is called tumah in the Torah. Vnitma'uh, anything that smells of immorality is called tumah. When women or girls try to make themselves seductive to people who are not supposed to see them in that light, then they turn mi'us, they become smelling bad with the wickedness of tumah.
A woman should always dress well for her husband, always dress well. You have to make a hit with your husband always. But for other people? Especially by using garments that are not tzniusdik, it's like wearing in the street a chamberpot full of something. It's tumah! (Yevamos 12.a) Tumah kesiv bo k'arayos. And you explain to them, you're careful with milchig and fleishig, then al achas kama v'kama, how much more careful you have to be with the garment that you wear.
Good Shabbos To All
This email is transcribed from questions that were posed to Harav Miller by the audience at the Thursday night lectures. To listen to the audio of this Q & A please dial: 201-676-3210
If Kavod is such a silly thing to pursue in this world, why is it the reward in the next world?
ANSWER:
Kavod is not silly at all, Kavod is real. Oh it's a joy to get glory, and that's why everybody runs after it, don't tell me Kavod is nothing, only it depends who gives you the Kavod. As I once explained, in this rug there are billions of bacteria, even if it's a clean rug there are billions of bacteria. Suppose all the bacteria in this rug are going to applaud you, you walk in and nobody is present. Silence: all the bacteria are clapping their hands, you're not excited over that, so who cares if big bacteria is clapping?
Let's say it's a grand stadium and millions of men are applauding you, it's nothing, it's bacteria!! Who cares what they do? Only one audience we have, Hakadosh Baruch Hu, if He applauds it's meloh kol haaretz kevodo, that applause is all we want. Sure we want Kavod, it's the Kavod that He gives, that's the only Kavod that counts. So Kavod chachomim yinchulu, certainly chachomim will inherit Kavod, everybody want's Kavod by instinct, there is not a deception. Only, you have to make sure it's the right kind of Kavod. Therefore Kavod in this world is worthless, only the Kavod that Hashem gives.
However I want to say one word of caution, human beings are so lazy, it's so hard for them to stir themselves to do anything, that they have to try various methods to give themselves a push. It's like trying to climb a mountain; it's hard work to climb uphill. But when you have some kind of an impetus, an incentive, it's easier. Therefore, l'olam ya'asok adam ba'torah uba'mitzvos shelo lishma, you should have an incentive. You want Kavod for Torah, yes! You want foolish Kavod in this world? That Kavod will help you climb the difficult mountain, it's not easy to learn Gemara, Rashi, and Tosfos. It's easier to lie in bed and read a newspaper. But when you get Kavod for learning Torah, it's an incentive and therefore it's worth it.
Even for Mitzvos, just to run to the Bais Hakneses so people should speak well of you, you think, it's beneath my dignity to do things for Kavod. No! Even Mitzvos do for Kavod, she'mitoch shelo lishma buh lishma. So once more, do not despise the incentive of Kavod if it helps you accomplish good things.
Good Shabbos To All
This email is transcribed from questions that were posed to Harav Avigdor Miller by the audience at the Thursday night lectures. To listen to the audio of this Q & A please dial: 201-676-3210
This email is transcribed from questions that were posed to Harav Miller by the audience at the Thursday night lectures. To listen to the audio of this Q & A please dial: 201-676-3210
QUESTION:
If the generation of the wilderness was so great, why was there a revolt in the times of the spies?
ANSWER:
You should understand, that there are certain principles of correct behavior that everybody should cling to at all times. One of these principles is pikuach nefesh. We have to save lives, Jewish lives are too precious to squander. Hashem told Moshe to send meraglim to spy out the land. So everybody understood that the purpose was to see the feasibility of coming into the land. Otherwise why send meraglim? It's a waste of time if no matter what the report will be they have to march ahead, so why should he send spies? So the answer was, they understood that if it's going to be unfavorable report, they have to find ways and means of dealing with the situation; it's common sense.
Now they understood that eventually Hakadosh Baruch Hu would give them the land, but to come now and make a frontal attack on a country that was so fortified would be suicide. Now, the sin of the meraglim was that they gave advice to the people. They shouldn't have given any advice; that wasn't their job. They should have reported and they should have stepped back and kept quiet. But they said, that it's too dangerous; they weren't expected to say that.
At that time, there was an overdose of caution. Pikuach nefesh certainly, but the people have to know, if Moshe Rabeinu who is the oheiv Yisroel, and he heard the report, and he understood the pros and cons, and he is the shliach Hashem, and he's telling them b'shem Hashem, good, we received the report, we'll have to proceed with caution... we'll have to plan the assault in a way that's safest, it shouldn't be a loss of life, but we'll have to go ahead anyhow, they should have overcome their fears.
But because the meraglim were men of great influence, and injected a note of terror into the people, it became to a large part of the people a panic. Now don't think everybody panicked, Kalev didn't panic, Yehosua didn't panic, you can be sure Betzalel didn't panic, Miriam didn't panic, there were a lot of good Jews who were willing to follow Moshe Rabeinu. But there were some people who said that they didn't want to go at this time because of the report of the meraglim, and that was the sin of the meraglim.
Now the truth is, had it been in our generation it wouldn't have been a sin at all; that's a principle of the Kuzari. The sin is made great in accordance with the greatness of the people. For them it was considered a sin. For us, if we would refuse to go to Eretz Yisroel if it would be occupied by a dense population of well-armed people, nothing wrong. But since there was a Moshe Rabeinu, it was al pi Hashem, and they were a great generation that saw nissim v'niflaos in yetzias Mitzrayim, so as far as their greatness was concerned it was considered an error, and they were blamed for it.
The parsha of Naso contains the laws relating to the nazirite – an individual who undertook, usually for a limited period of time, to observe special rules of holiness and abstinence: not to drink wine or other intoxicants (including anything made from grapes), not to have his hair cut and not to defile himself by contact with the dead.
The Torah does not make a direct evaluation of the nazirite. On the one hand it calls him “holy to God” (Num. 6: 8). On the other, it rules that when the period comes to an end the nazirite has to bring a sin offering (Num. 6: 13-14), as if he had done something wrong.
This led to a fundamental disagreement between the rabbis in Mishnaic, Talmudic and medieval times. According to Rabbi Elazar, and later to Nahmanides, the nazirite is worthy of praise. He has voluntarily chosen a higher level of holiness. The prophet Amos (2: 11) says, “I raised up some of your sons for prophets, and your young men for nazirites,” suggesting that the nazirite, like the prophet, is a person especially close to God. The reason he had to bring a sin offering was that he was now returning to ordinary life. The sin lay in ceasing to be a nazirite.
Rabbi Eliezer ha-Kappar and Shmuel held the opposite opinion. The sin lay inbecoming a nazirite in the first place, thereby denying himself some of the pleasures of the world God created and declared good. Rabbi Eliezer added: “From this we may infer that if one who denies himself the enjoyment of wine is called a sinner, all the more so one who denies himself the enjoyment of other pleasures of life.”[1]
Clearly the argument is not merely textual. It is substantive. It is about asceticism, the life of self-denial. Almost every religion knows the phenomenon of people who, in pursuit of spiritual purity, withdraw from the pleasures and temptations of the world. They live in caves, retreats, hermitages, monasteries. The Qumran sect known to us through the Dead Sea Scrolls may have been such a movement.
In the Middle Ages there were Jews who adopted similar self-denial – among them the Hassidei Ashkenaz, the Pietists of Northern Europe, as well as many Jews in Islamic lands. In retrospect it is hard not to see in these patterns of behaviour at least some influence from the non-Jewish environment. The Hassidei Ashkenaz who flourished during the time of the Crusades lived among self-mortifying Christians. Their southern counterparts may have been familiar with Sufism, the mystical movement in Islam.
The ambivalence of Jews toward the life of self-denial may therefore lie in the suspicion that it entered Judaism from the outside. There were ascetic movements in the first centuries of the Common Era in both the West (Greece) and the East (Iran) that saw the physical world as a place of corruption and strife. They were, in fact, dualists, holding that the true God was not the creator of the universe. The physical world was the work of a lesser, and evil, deity. The two best known movements to hold this view were Gnosticism in the West and Manichaeism in the East. So at least some of the negative evaluation of the nazirite may have been driven by a desire to discourage Jews from imitating non-Jewish practices.
What is more puzzling is the position of Maimonides, who holds both views, positive and negative, in the same book, his law code the Mishneh Torah. InThe Laws of Ethical Character, he adopts the negative position of R. Eliezer ha-Kappar: “A person may say: ‘Desire, honour and the like are bad paths to follow and remove a person from the world, therefore I will completely separate myself from them and go to the other extreme.’ As a result, he does not eat meat or drink wine or take a wife or live in a decent house or wear decent clothing . . . This too is bad, and it is forbidden to choose this way.”[2]
Yet in The Laws of the Nazirite he rules in accordance with the positive evaluation of Rabbi Elazar: “Whoever vows to G-d [to become a nazirite] by way of holiness, does well and is praiseworthy . . . Indeed Scripture considers him the equal of a prophet.”[3] How does any writer come to adopt contradictory positions in a single book, let alone one as resolutely logical as Maimonides?
The answer lies in one of Maimonides’ most original insights. He holds that there are two quite different ways of living the moral life. He calls them respectively the way of the saint (hassid) and the sage (hakham).
The sage follows the “golden mean,” the “middle way.” The moral life is a matter of moderation and balance, charting a course between too much and too little. Courage, for example, lies midway between cowardice and recklessness. Generosity lies between profligacy and miserliness. This is very similar to the vision of the moral life as set out by Aristotle in the Nicomachean Ethics.
The saint, by contrast, does not follow the middle way. He or she tends to extremes, fasting rather than simply eating in moderation, embracing poverty rather than acquiring modest wealth, and so on.
At various points in his writings, Maimonides explains why people might embrace extremes. One reason is repentance and character transformation.[4]So a person might cure himself of pride by practicing, for a while, extreme self-abasement. Another is the asymmetry of the human personality. The extremes do not exert an equal pull. Cowardice is more common than recklessness, and miserliness than over-generosity, which is why the hassid leans in the opposite direction. A third reason is the lure of the surrounding culture. This may be so opposed to religious values that pious people choose to separate themselves from the wider society, “clothing themselves in woolen and hairy garments, dwelling in the mountains and wandering about in the wilderness,” differentiating themselves by their extreme behavior.
This is a very nuanced presentation. There are times, for Maimonides, when self-denial is therapeutic, others when it is factored into Torah law itself, and yet others when it is a response to an excessively hedonistic age. In general, though, Maimonides rules that we are commanded to follow the middle way, whereas the way of the saint is lifnim mi-shurat ha-din, beyond the strict requirement of the law.[5]
Moshe Halbertal, in his recent, impressive study of Maimonides,[6] sees him as finessing the fundamental tension between the civic ideal of the Greek political tradition and the spiritual ideal of the religious radical for whom, as the Kotzker Rebbe said, “The middle of the road is for horses.” To the hassid, Maimonides’ sage can look like a “self-satisfied bourgeois.”
Essentially, these are two ways of understanding the moral life itself. Is the aim of the moral life to achieve personal perfection? Or is it to create a decent, just and compassionate society? The intuitive answer of most people would be to say: both. That is what makes Maimonides so acute a thinker. He realises that you can’t have both. They are in fact different enterprises.
A saint may give all his money away to the poor. But what about the members of the saint’s own family? A saint may refuse to fight in battle. But what about the saint’s own country? A saint may forgive all crimes committed against him. But what about the rule of law, and justice? Saints are supremely virtuous people, considered as individuals. Yet you cannot build a society out of saints alone. Ultimately, saints are not really interested in society. Their concern is the salvation of the soul.
This deep insight is what led Maimonides to his seemingly contradictory evaluations of the nazirite. The nazirite has chosen, at least for a period, to adopt a life of extreme self-denial. He is a saint, a hassid. He has adopted the path of personal perfection. That is noble, commendable and exemplary.
But it is not the way of the sage – and you need sages if you seek to perfect society. The sage is not an extremist, because he or she realises that there are other people at stake. There are the members of one’s own family and the others within one’s own community. There is a country to defend and an economy to sustain. The sage knows he or she cannot leave all these commitments behind to pursue a life of solitary virtue. For we are called on by God to live in the world, not escape from it; in society not seclusion; to strive to create a balance among the conflicting pressures on us, not to focus on some while neglecting the others.
Hence, while from a personal perspective the nazirite is a saint, from a societal perspective he is, at least figuratively, a “sinner” who has to bring an atonement offering.
Maimonides lived the life he preached. We know from his writings that he longed for seclusion. There were years when he worked day and night to write his Commentary to the Mishnah, and later the Mishneh Torah. Yet he also recognised his responsibilities to his family and to the community. In his famous letter to his would-be translator Ibn Tibbon, he gives him an account of his typical day and week, in which he had to carry a double burden as a world-renowned physician and an internationally sought halakhist and sage. He worked to exhaustion. There were times when he was almost too busy to study from one week to the next. Maimonides was a sage who longed to be a saint – but knew he could not be, if he was to honour his responsibilities to his people. That seems to me a profound judgment, and one still relevant to Jewish life today.
Taanit 11a; Nedarim 10a.
Hilkhot Deot 3:1.
Hilkhot Nezirut 10: 14
See his Eight Chapters (the introduction to his commentary on Mishnah, Avot), ch. 4, and Hilkhot Deot, chapters 1, 2, 5 and 6.
Hilkhot Deot 1: 5.
Moshe Halbertal, Maimonides: Life and Thought, Princeton University Press, 2014, 154-163.
QUESTION: (This is transcribed from questions that were posed to Harav Avigdor Miller, Z"L)
How can one continue with thoughts of Hakadosh Baruch Hu if he is busy throughout the day with material things, and he's in contact with people?
ANSWER:
If you learn to utilize these things, they will remind you of Hakadosh Baruch Hu, because everything in the world is actually made for the purpose of reminding you. Let's say you're a grocer, as you stand behind the counter and somebody asks for a can of sardines, or for a herring, so you're thinking, "Where does this come from? It's from Hakadosh Baruch Hu who gave it an instinct. Far away in waters of some distant ocean this creature is fruitful and is multiplying itself, for the purpose that it should be served on your table, and here you're handing it across the counter, it's the result of the Niflo'os Haborei."
You know how many miracles have to take place before you have a herring? First of all the herring has to reproduce. How could a herring reproduce in the ocean? There are no places for them to go out (on a date) together, there are no homes where they live together; it's a very difficult business for fish to reproduce. It's a miracle that they reproduce at all. And how can they find food? There's food available for herrings too, and there are nissim upon nissim.
When the grocer hands a bag of apples across the counter and he thinks, "Where did these apples come from, where did the beautiful red color come from? And why did the red color come just only when the apple became sweet and soft, but before it was green? Why is it that only when the apple is ripe does it turn red?" And he's thinking these noble thoughts, and if he's trained, a grocery store is the very best place to study Chovos Halvavos, and to study Bereishis barah Elokim and to come to emunah. In addition, while he's handing things across the counter he's thinking, "I'm serving Hakadosh Baruch Hu, poseiach es yodecha, he opens up his hands like Hakadosh Baruch Hu does, umasbiah lchol chai ratzon."
The fact that he's getting paid for it, he ignores that. It's a little lubrication to make it easier to do that, but actually his intention is to walk in the ways of Hashem. So a grocer and a butcher, these people certainly find it easy to serve Hakadosh Baruch Hu.
If you're a dentist or you're a physician, so rofei cholei amo Yisroel, what's greater than that? Helping the Jewish people! Saving Jewish lives, that's the nation of Hakadosh Baruch Hu. What isn't there that a man couldn't utilize? Except if you're running a movie, that's a question, that's a hard job to find some justification. All legitimate parnossos are ways and means of spurring our minds to think of Hakadosh Baruch Hu.
You're selling jewelry: You know what jewelry means? A big amount of jewelry goes to chasanim to give to their brides. You know what's going to happen now? It's the beginning of a great career. A young man is marrying a young woman and he's giving her a ring, that's encouragement for the great career that's waiting for them, a career of bringing into the world the Jewish nation. So what's better than that?
דבר אל כל עדת בני ישראל ואמרת אלהם קדשים תהיו כי קדוש אני ד' אלוקיכם(יט:ב
Speak to the entire congregation of the Bnai Yisroel, and say to them, You shall be holy(19:2)
Parshas Kedoshim begins with HaShem telling Moshe to convey the message that we must be holy. We are an exalted People, and as such, we must act that way. Part of what makes/keeps us holy is the mitzvos that we do and the aveiros that we stay away from.
Even if at times, a person may not be “feeling that spiritual high”, by no means should this cause a person not to feel content with his avoda. The Torah doesn’t say קדושים תרגישו that you should feel holy, but rather, קדושים תהיו that you should be holy. By doing what the Torah says to do, that is how we maintain our holiness.
The world of hergesh/feelings can be a very slippery slope. Of course, if one feels a natural pull towards a certain mitzvah (as the seforim hakedoshim tell us), on his own personal level, he should exert himself even more towards it. But this does not mean that that particular mitzvah is more important than another.
But what about the negative aspects of hergesh? Hergesh can be very dangerous if it is wrongly developed. There is a well-known story of a woman that approached Rabbi J.B. Soloveichik z’l (Boston) asking for permission to wear a tallis. The Rav responded that in Judaism we do things slowly, not just jumping in. He suggested that for a few weeks, the woman should don the tallis without any strings attached, and then return with her report on how she was spiritually feeling at that point before moving to the next step. Sure enough, the woman returned explaining, almost teary eyed, how she had never felt that spiritually connected to G-d. She felt most definitely ready for the next step. With a grin, the Rav explained that the spiritual feeling that she was experiencing in actuality was nothing; it was all in her head. There was absolutely nothing spiritual about a tallis without strings. In fact, if it would have been a man wearing it, not only would it not have been spiritual, on the contrary, it would have been a terrible transgression. In conclusion, he explained to her that women do not have the mitzvah of wearing tzitzis, and instead of trying to find feelings of spirituality from “other” sources, one should focus on the mitzvos that were given to them.
But at the end of the day, this lady did in fact feel spiritual, so where does this come from? The possuk says אל תפנו אל האלילם ואלהי מסכה לא תעשו לכם - You shall not turn to the worthless idols, nor shall you make molten gods for yourselves. Rashi explains that the word for idol- אליל- contains the syllable אל, not, or nothing, because these gods have no power and no value. But if someone is foolish enough to turn to the idols, he will begin to respect them as if they were truly gods.
Rav Yeruchem Levovitz z’l (Daas Torah) explains that this is the concept of taking something from fabrication to subscription. With time, the person begins to believe in the power of something that may in actuality be just a nothing. He calls this concept the power of “עשאום” – the secret of endowing material things with spiritual or intangible qualities. The Torah tells us not to turn to these idols; not to even glance at it. Once a person starts to pay some attention to it, they start to ascribe to it a value. At that point, in the mind of the person, the molten piece of nothing has already gained the status of a god.
This concept can relate to many different aspects of life, for good or for bad. One example found in daily life may be that what was once good enough for some is no longer good enough once something better has been tasted. Again, that may be good or bad, depending on the situation. The gemara in Mesichta Menachos relates that before a person tastes kavod, he is naturally repulsed by it, but after having experienced it, one can barely do without it. The trick is אל תפנו- don’t turn to it.
Of course, to finish on a good note, if we have indeed pushed ourselves to reach high levels in avodas HaShem, then surely, we should always continue striving to maintain and improve on those lofty levels forever going higher and higher.
Good Shaabos מרדכי אפפעל
The Scapegoat: Shame and Guilt
By: Rabbi Jonathan Sacks
The strangest and most dramatic element of the service on Yom Kippur, set out in Acharei Mot (Lev. 16: 7-22), was the ritual of the two goats, one offered as a sacrifice, the other sent away into the desert “to Azazel.” They were to all intents and purposes indistinguishable from one another: they were chosen to be as similar as possible in size and appearance. They were brought before the High Priest and lots were drawn, one bearing the words “To the Lord,” the other, “To Azazel.” The one on which the lot “To the Lord” fell was offered as a sacrifice. Over the other the High Priest confessed the sins of the nation and it was then taken away into the desert hills outside Jerusalem where it plunged to its death. Tradition tells us that a red thread would be attached to its horns, half of which was removed before the animal was sent away. If the rite had been effective, the red thread would turn to white.
Much is puzzling about the ritual. First, what is the meaning of “to Azazel,” to which the second goat was sent? It appears nowhere else in Scripture. Three major theories emerged as to its meaning. According to the sages and Rashi it meant “a steep, rocky or hard place,” in other words a description of its destination. According to the Torah the goat was sent “to a desolate area” (el eretz gezerah, Lev. 16: 22). According to the sages it was taken to a steep ravine where it fell to its death. That, according to the first explanation, is the meaning of Azazel.
The second, suggested cryptically by Ibn Ezra and explicitly by Nahmanides, is that Azazel was the name of a spirit or demon, one of the fallen angels referred to in Genesis 6:2, similar to the goat-spirit called Pan in Greek mythology, Faunus in Latin. This is a difficult idea, which is why Ibn Ezra alluded to it, as he did in similar cases, by way of a riddle, a puzzle, that only the wise would be able to decipher. He writes: “I will reveal to you part of the secret by hint: when you reach thirty-three you will know it.” Nahmanides reveals the secret. Thirty three verses later on, the Torah commands: “They must no longer offer any of their sacrifices to the goat idols [seirim] after whom they go astray” (Lev. 17: 7).
Azazel, on this reading, is the name of a demon or hostile force, sometimes called Satan or Samael. The Israelites were categorically forbidden to worship such a force. Indeed the belief that there are powers at work in the universe distinct from, or even hostile to, God, is incompatible with Judaic monotheism. Nonetheless, some sages did believe that there were negative forces that were part of the heavenly retinue, like Satan, who brought accusations against humans or tempted them into sin. The goat sent into the wilderness to Azazel was a way of conciliating or propitiating such forces so that the prayers of Israel could rise to heaven without, as it were, any dissenting voices. This way of understanding the rite is similar to the saying on the part of the sages that we blow shofar in a double cycle on Rosh Hashanah “to confuse Satan.”[1]
The third interpretation and the simplest is that Azazel is a compound noun meaning “the goat [ez] that was sent away [azal].” This led to the addition of a new word to the English language. In 1530 William Tyndale produced the first English translation of the Hebrew Bible, an act then illegal and for which he paid with his life. Seeking to translate Azazel into English, he called it “the escapegoat,” i.e. the goat that was sent away and released. In the course of time the first letter was dropped, and the word “scapegoat” was born.
The real question though is: what was the ritual actually about? It was unique. Sin and guilt offerings are familiar features of the Torah and a normal part of the service of the Temple. The service of Yom Kippur was different in one salient respect. In every other case the sin was confessed over the animal that was sacrificed. On Yom Kippur, the High Priest confessed the sins of the people over the animal that was not sacrificed, the scapegoat that was sent away, “carrying on it all their iniquities” (Lev. 16: 21-22).
The simplest and most compelling answer was given by Maimonides in The Guide for the Perplexed:
There is no doubt that sins cannot be carried like a burden, and taken off the shoulder of one being to be laid on that of another being. But these ceremonies are of a symbolic character, and serve to impress people with a certain idea, and to induce them to repent – as if to say, we have freed ourselves of our previous deeds, have cast them behind our backs, and removed them from us as far as possible.[2]
Expiation demands a ritual, some dramatic representation of the removal of sin and the wiping-clean of the past. That is clear. Yet Maimonides does not explain why Yom Kippur demanded a rite not used on other days of the year when sin or guilt offerings were brought. Why was the first goat, the one of which the lot “To the Lord” fell and which was offered as a sin offering (Lev. 16: 9) not sufficient?
The answer lies in the dual character of the day. The Torah states:
This shall be an eternal law for you: On the tenth day of the seventh month you must fast and not do any work … This is because on this day you shall have all your sins atoned [yechaper], so that you will be cleansed [le-taher]. Before God you will be cleansed of all your sins. (Lev. 16: 29-30)
Two quite distinct processes were involved on Yom Kippur. First there was kapparah, atonement. This is the normal function of a sin offering. Second, there was teharah, purification, something normally done in a different context altogether, namely the removal of tumah, ritual defilement, which could arise from a number of different causes, among them contact with a dead body, skin disease, or nocturnal discharge. Atonement has to do with guilt. Purification has to do with contamination or pollution. These are usually[3] two separate worlds. On Yom Kippur they were brought together. Why?
We owe to anthropologists like Ruth Benedict[4] the distinction between shame cultures and guilt cultures. Shame is a social phenomenon. It is what we feel when our wrongdoing is exposed to others. It may even be something we feel when we merely imagine other people knowing or seeing what we have done. Shame is the feeling of being found out, and our first instinct is to hide. That is what Adam and Eve did in the garden of Eden after they had eaten the forbidden fruit. They were ashamed of their nakedness and they hid.
Guilt is a personal phenomenon. It has nothing to do with what others might say if they knew what we have done, and everything to do with what we say to ourselves. Guilt is the voice of conscience, and it is inescapable. You may be able to avoid shame by hiding or not being found out, but you cannot avoid guilt. Guilt is self-knowledge.
There is another difference, which explains why Judaism is overwhelmingly a guilt rather than a shame culture. Shame attaches to the person. Guilt attaches to the act. It is almost impossible to remove shame once you have been publicly disgraced. It is like an indelible stain on your skin. Shakespeare has Lady Macbeth say, after her crime, “Will these hands ne’er be clean?” In shame cultures, wrongdoers tend either to go into exile, where no one knows their past, or to commit suicide. Playwrights have them die.
Guilt makes a clear distinction between the act of wrongdoing and the person of the wrongdoer. The act was wrong, but the agent remains, in principle, intact. That is why guilt can be removed, “atoned for,” by confession, remorse and restitution. “Hate not the sinner but the sin,” is the basic axiom of a guilt culture.
Normally sin and guilt offerings, as their names imply, are about guilt. They atone. But Yom Kippur deals not only with our sins as individuals. It also confronts our sins as a community bound by mutual responsibility. It deals, in other words, with the social as well as the personal dimension of wrongdoing. Yom Kippur is about shame as well as guilt. Hence there has to be purification (the removal of the stain) as well as atonement.
The psychology of shame is quite different to that of guilt. We can discharge guilt by achieving forgiveness – and forgiveness can only be granted by the object of our wrongdoing, which is why Yom Kippur only atones for sins against God. Even God cannot – logically cannot – forgive sins committed against our fellow humans until they themselves have forgiven us.
Shame cannot be removed by forgiveness. The victim of our crime may have forgiven us, but we still feel defiled by the knowledge that our name has been disgraced, our reputation harmed, our standing damaged. We still feel the stigma, the dishonour, the degradation. That is why an immensely powerful and dramatic ceremony had to take place during which people could feel and symbolically see their sins carried away to the desert, to no-man’s-land. A similar ceremony took place when a leper was cleansed. The priest took two birds, killed one, and released the other to fly away across the open fields (Lev. 14: 4-7). Again the act was one of cleansing, not atoning, and had to do with shame, not guilt.
Judaism is a religion of hope, and its great rituals of repentance and atonement are part of that hope. We are not condemned to live endlessly with the mistakes and errors of our past. That is the great difference between a guilt culture and a shame culture. But Judaism also acknowledges the existence of shame. Hence the elaborate ritual of the scapegoat that seemed to carry away the tumah, the defilement that is the mark of shame. It could only be done on Yom Kippur because that was the one day of the year in which everyone shared at least vicariously in the process of confession, repentance, atonement and purification. When a whole society confesses its guilt, individuals can be redeemed from shame.
Parshas Acharei Mos - Kedoshim 5775
This email is transcribed from questions that were posed to Harav Miller by the audience at the Thursday night lectures. To listen to the audio of this Q & A please dial: 201-676-3210
QUESTION:
Kedoshim t'hiyou ki kodosh ani Hashem, what's the meaning of kedusha and how can we compare our kedusha to Hakadosh Baruch Hu's kedusha?
ANSWER:
Kedusha means… sh'leimus; perfection the way Hashem is perfect. All good midos, all chochmos, and all maasim tovim, that's kedusha. And how should you gain kedusha? Most of the kedusha depends on your mind. However, you can train yourself in many good things. If you're a kodosh; let's say, that you don't talk too much, that's a kedusha. If you're a kodosh that you learned not to waste time, whenever you have time you look in a sefer, or do something else that's good, that's kedusha.
There are various kinds of kedusha. But all together, kedusha means, you should be perfect. Hakadosh Baruch Hu, when He commanded Avrohom Avinu, He said his'haleich l'fonai, walk before Me, veh'yei tomim, and be perfect. What does it mean, walk before Me? It means that when you walk, wherever you go, whatever you do, think about Me, that's kedusha. Think as much as possible about Hakadosh Baruch Hu. You have a store and customers are coming in, you say "Baruch Hashem, a customer! Help me make a good sale to him," that's kedusha. Whatever you do should be kedusha.
You sit down to eat, do what the Shulchan Aruch says; say, "I'm eating l'havros es haguf... la'avod es Hashem, I'm eating to make my body healthy I should be able to serve Hashem, that's kedusha. Of course if you really mean it, it's even more kedusha, but even saying it is the beginning of kedusha.
When you put on your shoes, Ahh, baruch Hashem sheoso li kol tzorki; shoes are expensive. How did shoes come into being? Shoes are nothing but grass! An animal eats grass and it turns into leather, it's a nes! You're wearing grass shoes.
Everything that you put on is a miracle, malbish arumim. And so a person who thinks these thoughts, he should know he's becoming a kodosh. Kodosh doesn't mean he has to be a nazir, doesn't mean he has to fast. The Kuzari says, when you eat a seuda on Shabbos you gain more kedusha than when you fast. Fasting on a weekday does not give you as much kedusha as eating on Shabbos. Of course you have to eat in the right way.
So there are ways of getting kedusha, and we have to utilize all of them.
This posting was reprinted from an email that is transcribed from questions that were posed to Harav Miller by the audience at the Thursday night lectures.
To listen to the audio of this Q & A please dial: 201-676-3210
QUESTION:
Why does the Mishna (Avos 3-7) state, ha'mhalech baderech v'shoneh umafsik mi,mishnoso... it says, if a man is walking on the road and he stops learning and he says, "how beautiful is this tree", he is considered guilty of a sin?
ANSWER:
If a man stops learning Gemara – let's say he's learning Gemara and he stops for a while because he wants to learn Chovas Halvavos, will you say he's mischayev benafsho, he's guilty of a crime? Chovas Halvavos is also Torah. If a man stops learning Bava Kama and he decides for a little while every day to learn Zevachim, is it a crime? Zevachim is also a sugya in Torah.
But what does it mean if he's mafsik mishnoso and says, ma noeh ilan zeh? It's not talking about studying the tree for the sake of seeing the niflo'os haborei, the wonders of creation. No. He's remarking that it's something beautiful, something aesthetic; it's a pleasure to look at that tree.
Now if you're in middle of Shmonei Esrei, you're standing before Hakadosh Baruch Hu, you don't interrupt to talk diverei chol. When you're studying Torah, don't interrupt; you have to have respect for Torah. That's what the mishna is talking about.
But if somebody interrupts because he wants now to take himself to the study of the briah, then there's no question that it's permissible and sometimes virtuous.
וישחט ויקח משה את הדם... ויחטא את המזבח... ויקדשהו לכפר עליו
(ח:טו)
He slaughtered it, and Moshe took the blood… and he purified the Mizbayach… and he sanctified it to provide atonement for it. (8:15)
There is a beautiful Midrash (Yalkut Shimoni) that discusses this possuk which leaves us with a very timely lesson. The Midrash wonders why there was a need for Klal Yisroel to bring a korban for atonement purposes. What had they done wrong; what was their sin? After having concluded the counting of all the donations that were given, Moshe Rabbeinu was worried that possibly, during the fundraising campaign for the building of the Mishkan, some extra pressure was added to the donors, thereby causing them to donate out of shame and not because they really wanted to. This is a possible case of gezel/theft. Even if we conclude that according to the strict halacha, a gift given as a result of pressure is still halachically considered a gift, there was still most definitely lacking the nedivus halev that was such an integral part of the Mishkan. If it wasn’t heartfelt, it cannot be called b’ratzon! In order for the kedusha of the Mishkan to be prevalent, it needed to be built willingly and voluntarily by every participant.
Rav Ahran Kolter z”l writes that from here we learn that the measuring stick to know how much kedusha really is inside of any particular mitzvah is dependent upon how much ratzon/willingness and simcha/happiness went into its performance. When we perform a mitzvah with happiness, we are demonstrating the chashivus that we attribute to that mitzvah. The gemara in Mesichta Shaabos (130a) tells us that any mitzvah that Klal Yisroel accepted with joy is still performed that way today. That became an integral part of the actual mitzvah.
“Rachmana liba ba’ee”- the Torah requires heart. It’s not enough just to perform the mitzvos; it’s how we perform them. Ivdu es HaShem bisimcha- our avodah is to serve HaShem with happiness. No, it’s not just a song that is sung on tops of vans on Rechov Malchei Yisroel with loud blaring music. It is supposed to be part and parcel of the mitzvah itself.
It has been said that if the previous generation would not have given a krechtz- “oy, it’s tough to be a Yid”, perhaps many more of the next generation would have remained Torah observant.
We say in Shir Hamaalos before birchas hamazon הזרעים בדמעה ברנה יקצרו. הלוך ילך ובכה נשא משך הזרע בא יבא ברנה נשא אלמתיו. – Those that sow with tears will reap with song. He will go along weeping, carrying the valuable seeds; he will come back with song, carrying his sheaves. There is a “Chasidishe pshat” that really emphasizes the theme we are discussing. They explain as follows: If a person “sows with tears”, he will be rewarded with “reaping with song”, and if he carries on with “weeping”, i.e. his haloch yeilech is that way; he will indeed merit “carrying the seeds”. HOWEVER, if his attitude is one of בא יבא ברנה continuous joyous song (even when there is a difficult task at hand), then he will be rewarded not only with seeds, but with much more significant “sheaves”.
Pesach is “traditionally” a time of high stress, but it need not be that way. There are many that do all their preparations with joy even if it is difficult. Another aspect of Pesach that is most prevalent on this Yom Tov is that it is all about what lessons we are giving over to the next generation. If we put a little bit of extra effort into maintaining the level of simcha and not merely performing these hailigeh mitzvos because we have to, then we will be zoche to give over to the coming generations a message of happiness and Simchas Hamitzvos, thus guaranteeing a continuation of the kiyum hamitzvos.
Good Shaabos מרדכי אפפעל
One of the reasons that this Shabbos is referred to as Shabbos HaGadol is because of the great miracle that occurred on the Shabbos prior to the Pesach of Yetzias Mitzrayim. Hashem commanded Bnei Yisrael to take sheep, the Egyptian deity, and tie them to their bedposts four days before they were to be slaughtered. The close proximity of the animal would allow them to examine it daily and ensure that it would be blemish free at the time of slaughtering. The first of the four days fell out on Shabbos. Despite the fact that the Egyptians were aware of Bnei Yisrael's intentions to slaughter their deity, they did not harm Bnei Yisrael in any way - a true miracle!
What was the purpose of putting Bnei Yisrael into such a position in the first place? Couldn't they wait until after they were freed to slaughter the sheep instead of aggravating their masters? Rashi (Shemos 12:6) cites Chazal who deal with this question. When the time came to redeem Bnei Yisrael, there was an impediment to the redemption: Bnei Yisrael were bare of mitzvos i.e. they were missing the merit necessary to attain the redemption. Therefore, Hashem gave them two mitzvos to perform: the mitzvah of korban Pesach and the mitzvah of bris milah. It was imperative that Bnei Yisrael perform these mitzvos before the redemption because their fulfillment would give them the merit they so badly needed.
Regarding Bnei Yisrael's performance of these two mitzvos, Hashem said, "And I passed you and saw you wallowing in your blood (of the korban Pesach and the bris milah) and I said to you, 'With your blood you shall live'" (Yechezkel 16:8). Ironically, the mesirus nefesh demonstrated by Bnei Yisrael did not result in the loss of life. On the contrary it produced the opposite effect; it gave them life. True life is only achieved by going the extra mile. Bnei Yisrael slaughtered the Egyptian deity without worrying about the repercussions of such an action and they circumcised themselves the day before they set out on a journey into the wilderness. They endangered their lives and Hashem repaid them by giving them life.
This concept is the essence of nisyonos - the trials with which Hashem tests a person. It is only by passing a test that one can attain the highest levels of spirituality. The Gemara relates that Dovid Hamelech asked Hashem if he could be the fourth "wheel of His chariot" in addition to the three forefathers. Hashem responded that they were tested and only by passing a test did they reach their awesome levels. When one is put to a test and, despite the difficulties, he is moser nefesh for Hashem, Hashem repays him handsomely.
Although we daven daily not to be tested with nisyonos, invariably nisyonos do arise (with great frequency). A nisoyon is not always to the degree of destroying someone else's god before his very eyes. For some getting up in the morning on time for davening is quite a test, while for others overcoming anger is a little challenge. For many, the days of bein hazmanim and Yom Tov are a true test. How do they spend their time when they are free from their normal curriculum? Every test is an opportunity to demonstrate to Hashem how far we are willing to go for Him. One should bear in mind that it is certainly worth going the extra mile, because He pays very handsomely!
This email is transcribed from questions that were posed to Harav Miller by the audience at the Thursday night lectures.
To listen to the audio of this Q & A please dial: 201-676-3210
QUESTION:
Why are there so many agunos around?
ANSWER:
Tragedy!! So many people have made the tragic error of breaking up. Now I would suggest that every couple, as soon as they're married should attach themselves to some Rabbi and some Kehilla; it's a steadying influence. When you know there's somebody whose respect you desire, and there's a group of people whose good opinion you'd like to maintain, so it would prevent you from doing rash things.
Many times a marriage is broken by one rash action, but when you know that people will be happy, the enemies will say, "Oh, you see what he is? We always said he's no good". In order to keep people's mouths closed you will try to do your best and maintain good appearances.
Therefore it's very important to be part of a good community and especially to have a connection with some Rabbi, and you should always make it your business to be settled in such an environment that's conducive to a steady and permanent marriage.
Of course you need a great deal of advice how to maintain marriage successfully, and yet the fact of a good environment is important. If you live in a community where people are divorcing all the time so the example is very harmful. I know there are certain towns in the suburbs where people are divorcing constantly, it's a tragedy. All of them are sorry, all of them are sorry, they may not say so, but their lives are ruined.
No matter how difficult it is to get along with each other, that's the success of life, and eventually even though they were fighting for years and years, they'll lead their children and grandchildren to the chuppa, and then when the time comes they'll go to the funeral parlor and weep for each other, one has to be first...and they should be able to say that we lived successfully despite all the difficulties. But just to yield to the yetzer horah and break up, even because of something that may seem serious, is never serious enough to justify the great tragedy of breaking up a marriage.
Why did they (the Jews) deserve at the time of Purim, such a threat to their lives?
ANSWER:
The gemara says, mipnei sh'nehenu m'seudoso shel Achashveirosh, because they enjoyed his banquet. Now it doesn't say because they went to the banquet, the banquet they had to attend because they had to demonstrate that they were patriots, but it should have been as kofoh sheid; they were forced to go. But some of them went with a certain amount of exhilaration. We are also citizens, we are also given recognition, we are also somebody. As they sat at the table some of them were happy that they were able to mingle with the gentiles.
So Hakadosh Baruch Hu said, "You, the Chosen people, are forgetting your aristocracy, and you sink so low to be honored in the presence of other nations? I'll have to remind you who the other nations are." And so, when the proclamation of Haman went out to the one hundred twenty seven medinos, and the Jews walking down the street saw the nations gathering around the bulletin boards, and they were reading with relish, on a certain day there will permission given for the great prank to begin, for the great fun to begin! And the goyim were licking their chops in anticipation, and the Jew was walking by and the goy was measuring him, this is a fat one, we'll get him when the day comes. So the Jew began to understand who his nice neighbors were, like in Lithuania, or in Latvia, or anywhere else.
The neighbors with whom you lived with for generations, and seemed so nice, they were the ones who turned you over to the Nazis; they were the ones. Priests turned over Jews to the Nazis. The Rov of Grosvardie relates that his brother-in-law was trying to escape from the ghetto, so a Hungarian priest seized him by the arm and handed him over to the Nazis for execution. How was it that cardinal Brisgas in Lithuania, he praised the Nazis for what they were doing? Certainly it was for the purpose of letting us know who our nice neighbors are.
Therefore when they were proud and happy to associate with the umos haolam, Hakadosh Baruch Hu gave them a taste of what the umos haolam really are.
Good Shabbos To All
This email is transcribed from questions that were posed to Harav Miller by the audience at the Thursday night lectures. To listen to the audio of this Q & A please dial: 201-676-3210
we are introduced in this parsha to the daughters of Tzlafchad, who in the most assertive, yet modest way, made sure their father's inheritance was assured, to tell over two vignettes about some very strong, noble Jewish women. The stories are found in the sefer of Yisrael Speigel.
The wife of a great Rav, we'll call her Leah, was approached by her husband with a very peculiar request. He wanted her, whenever they were out in public together, to treat him badly and denigrate him for all to see. Of course the very idea of disrespecting this man for whom she in fact had the utmost respect, even privately, was abhorrent to her. He however, badgered her day after day, until she was actually prepared to be a dutiful wife and accede to his wish, but for one final hitch - from where would she muster the fortitude to live with this new reputation of being an abusive, irreverent, even impious woman. The Rav gave her the courage, and clarified his rationale, by telling her the following tale.
The great and famous R' Yechezkel Landau, aka "Nodeh B'Yehuda" (1713 - 1793), had a wonderful daughter whom he married off to a young man who would turn out to be the brilliant and extremely pious R' Yosef, the Rav of Posen. It was well known that the "Nodeh B'Yehuda" was very fond and proud of his son-in-law, and even praised him profusely when mentioning him in some of his responsa. That only made the following phenomenon more bizarre. Not long after the young couple married, and R' Yosef was already confidently ensconced as rabbi of the city of Posen, visitors to their home, and even at other public venues, couldn't help but notice, and be taken aback by the behavior of the young rebbetzin. Any time R' Yosef was asked a question of any kind, or was being honored in any way, his wife would interject with the most derisive and humiliating comments about her husband. She would say unsolicited, disgusting things like, " Why are you asking Him questions - he is a buffoon, an 'empty suit' who is bereft of a single good character trait - a useless phoney !" R' Yosef never answered back and never complained. The people of the community felt great sympathy for their young, brilliant Rav, who 'nebech' had to put up with such a wretched shrew. They were also completely baffled at how the daughter of such an illustrious and pious father, could behave in such a way. This went on for years until suddenly, at a relatively early age, R' Yosef passed away.
The coffin was at the front of the shul and a huge crowd gathered for the funeral of their beloved Rav. Suddenly, the widow, the quite despised rebbetzin, approached the community leaders. A rather heated conversation ensued. She wanted to eulogize her husband. They were mystified as to why this consistently hate-filled, scorn-spewing 'wife', would even want to speak, but she remained adamant about exercising her right to say a few words. When she reached the podium, the silence in the shul was palpable. Many in the room were justifiably worried that she would erupt, even at that solemn and mournful moment, with more contempt and mockery.
She stood there trying to maintain her composure. She gazed out at the congregation as she wiped tears from her cheeks. Then she turned her eyes to the coffin and moaned, " Oy, Reb Yosef Hatzadik - truly you were R' Yosef Hatzadik. If I regret anything, it is that I was not able to show my appreciation and reverence for your righteousness and holiness. Were it not for the vow which you made me take, I would have sung your praises all day. But you, my dear husband, while you used your G-D-given gifts to the maximum good, feared those gifts and their often-accompanying feelings of pride and haughtiness. You begged me to swear that I would do my best to malign and humiliate you in public, so that you would never think too highly of yourself. Yes, I disguised my whole public persona for you - to be a good and loyal wife, but now that you're gone, let me state here and now that there is in fact no one more than myself, who knows what a truly great and righteous man you were."
When she turned to her seat, the crowd was agape. Almost everyone in the room was bawling, not only at the revelation of their late Rav's modesty and humility, but out of feelings of shame for the way they, for decades, thought of their rebbetzin. Then, miraculously, the image of Rav Yosef appeared at the front of the shul and turning to the widow, nodded his head in acknowledgment of her love, devotion and goodness.
Leah acquiesced. Her husband gave her a hand-written, signed note stating that her negative treatment of him was at his insistence and that she was in fact a wonderful wife and person. She outlived her husband and although she did tell her story to R' Sholom Shvadron ZT"L, she refused to show him the note and beseeched him to never disclose her secret during her lifetime. She chose to allow her reputation to remain sullied and to keep her mitzvah of being "a good wife", private - between herself, her husband and Hashem.
I'll be brief with the other story. The Kalever Rebbe told it over from an eyewitness who was part of a small clandestine group of trusted Jews, who were charged with insuring that there was always a minyan in attendance at every "bris". In those early years of communism in Russia being caught having, giving or even attending a bris could lead to a series of catastrophic consequences - investigations, loss of employment, trumped-up charges leading to Siberian prisons or even death sentences. A bris could only take place at the right time, the right place and with trustworthy people only, in attendance.
This 'minyan' group was once invited to be present at the bris of a young couple's eldest son. They met the young father who escorted them through a labyrinth of alleyways and courtyards until they finally reached a brightly lit basement room. The tables were prepared with all kinds of delicious delicacies and the spirit was festive. A rather large infant was brought in and the bris was completed without a hitch. As wishes of 'mazal tov' were being conveyed, the baby was handed to the mother. Suddenly a loud thump was heard and all heads turned her way. She had collapsed ! B"H the child was unhurt and they were able to revive the mother. When asked why she had fainted, she explained. " Our son is already over a year old. My husband and I waited anxiously and longingly for the moment when we could finally bring our little one into the covenant of Avrohom Aveenu. Although I hugged and tended to every need of our son all this time, I had long ago decided that I would not kiss my baby until he was a full-fledged Jew. A hundred times a day, I had to pull myself away from kissing him to remain true to my commitment. At long last, we merited bringing him into the covenant and they handed me my perfect little Jewish boy. I immediately kissed him. All of those kisses that I wanted to give him during all of those months, but couldn't, were combined in that small, gentle kiss. I can tell you now, that the love and emotional connection of a mother to her child can be so strong that it could make her lose consciousness. Boruch Hashem ! "
If there is any inspiration gotten from these stories, let it be dedicated "L'iluy Nishmas" (to the elevation of the soul) of little Leiby Kletzky A"H. May his parents ultimately find consolation amongst the other Jewish mourners of Zion and Yerushalayim.
The Midrash relates that one Friday night a certain woman attended a public lecture given by Rebe Meir. By the time she returned home her candles were extinguished. "Where have you been?" her husband demanded. She replied that she had been to the class of Rebe Meir. "You are not permitted to enter my house until you spit in the face of Rebe Meir," insisted her foolish husband.
Elijah the Prophet informed Rebe Meir that the woman was banned from her house. Rebe Meir went to synagogue. When the woman came to pray, Rebe Meir made himself yawn. He told the women that he was suffering from an ailment that could be cured if she would spit in his eye seven times. After she reluctantly complied, he told her, "Go tell your husband, 'You told me to spit once, whereas, I spit seven times."
Rebe Meir's students were appalled, "Rebe, the honor of the Torah has been disgraced. If you would have given the word, we would have forced him to take his wife back."
Rebe Meir responded, "The honor of Rebe Meir should not exceed the honor of Hashem. If Hashem allows his Holy name to be dissolved in the waters of the Sota (Bamidbar 5:23) - in order to make peace between husband and wife - all the more so should I lower my honor in order to make peace between husband and wife."
Although there was an alternative solution (as the students suggested) Rav Meir preferred to solve the problem by degrading himself. Rav Meir reasoned that the Sota procedure did not necessarily require the erasure of the Divine name. Rather, Hashem chose that method because - in His boundless compassion - He is willing to disgrace Himself in order to bring peace between husband and wife. Yet, if peace could have been achieved without disgrace - why did Hashem command us to erase His name?
When someone loves something, he does not delegate it to others to perform on his behalf. Rather, he himself pursues it. Hashem's love of peace is the reason that He chooses that His name be dissolved in order to make peace. May, we learn, as Rebe Meir did, to cherish peace so dearly - that we are even ready to make great sacrifices for the sake of peace.
[Based on Lev Eliyahu, Rav Elya Lopian]
The Ramchal tells us that HaShem is the infinite and absolute Good. The essence of good is to bestow eternal joy upon others. In this light, HaShem created the universe in order to bestow the Highest Good upon his creations.
Therefore, HaShem wants us to study Torah and perform Mitzvoth, i.e., "If you will follow My statutes." It is as if HaShem tells B'nei Yisrael, "If only you would fulfill the Torah, I will bestow upon you all the treasures from My abundant storehouse of blessings."
The eternal joy that HaShem grants us as a reward for the Mitzvoth is not really proportional to our deeds. We perform the Mitzvoth because they are "the Divine rules." HaShem rewards us with an eternal place in Gan Eden because He is Good. His intention in creation is to reveal His light and holiness upon us. He just asks us to do the Mitzvoth so that we can merit being in His splendorous presence.
Since, He desires to grant us the great pleasure of the Shechinah the revelations of the Divine Presence, He urges us to engage in Torah study. Therefore, the blessings of reward that HaShem bestows upon us, is the very fulfillment of HaShem's purpose in the creation of Heaven and earth.
May we engage in Torah study and Mitzvah performance in order to facilitate the fulfillment of HaShem's will. That is, to bestow the ultimate of goodness, light, and joy upon His creations.
[Based on Da'as Chaim of Rabenu Yerucham]
TODAY: Know that HaShem's purpose in creation of the universe is to bestow the ultimate good upon you.
The Ramchal tells us that HaShem is the infinite and absolute Good. The essence of good is to bestow eternal joy upon others. In this light, HaShem created the universe in order to bestow the Highest Good upon his creations.
Therefore, HaShem wants us to study Torah and perform Mitzvoth, i.e., "If you will follow My statutes." It is as if HaShem tells B'nei Yisrael, "If only you would fulfill the Torah, I will bestow upon you all the treasures from My abundant storehouse of blessings."
The eternal joy that HaShem grants us as a reward for the Mitzvoth is not really proportional to our deeds. We perform the Mitzvoth because they are "the Divine rules." HaShem rewards us with an eternal place in Gan Eden because He is Good. His intention in creation is to reveal His light and holiness upon us. He just asks us to do the Mitzvoth so that we can merit being in His splendorous presence.
Since, He desires to grant us the great pleasure of the Shechinah the revelations of the Divine Presence, He urges us to engage in Torah study. Therefore, the blessings of reward that HaShem bestows upon us, is the very fulfillment of HaShem's purpose in the creation of Heaven and earth.
May we engage in Torah study and Mitzvah performance in order to facilitate the fulfillment of HaShem's will. That is, to bestow the ultimate of goodness, light, and joy upon His creations.
[Based on Da'as Chaim of Rabenu Yerucham]
TODAY: Know that HaShem's purpose in creation of the universe is to bestow the ultimate good upon you.
Bechukosai
In this week's parsha we read in the tochacha, "And if you behave with Me "keri" and you refuse to heed Me, I will add another blow upon you" (Bamidbar 26, 21). Rashi tells us that the word "keri" comes from the same root as the word "mikreh" which means casually. The tochacha comes as a result of behaving casually regarding avodas Hashem: sometimes performing the mitzvos while at other times neglecting them.
Rav Wolbe (Shiurei Chumash) cites the Rambam who offers a different explanation for the word "keri." In the beginning of the halachos pertaining to ta'anios, the Rambam writes as follows: "There is a positive commandment to cry out and blow the trumpets at the advent of any trouble that befalls the populace. . . However, if they do not cry out nor blow the trumpets, rather, they say that what has occurred is due to natural circumstances and this calamity has come merely by chance. . . the calamity will lead to other calamities. In regard to this it is written in the Torah, 'And if you behave with Me "keri" and you refuse to heed Me, I will add another blow upon you'." The Rambam understands "keri" to mean coincidentally - by chance. If one perceives all of Divine Providence as coincidence, he is guilty of behaving toward Hashem in a manner of "keri" and the terrible punishment for such behavior is delineated in the subsequent pesukimof the tochacha.
Additionally, we find that tumah - spiritual impurity - is described as "keri." According to Rashi's explanation, the manifestation of spiritual impurity is the casual performance of avodas Hashem. The Rambam adds another dimension to spiritual impurity: failing to notice the hand of Hashem and instead attributing all occurrences to natural causes.
Both explanations are true. Nothing is by chance. Each and every current event has not occurred by chance; they are carefully orchestrated by the Creator Himself. Additionally, our avodas Hashem should not be performed casually - "by chance." We are His servants at all times and our performance of His mitzvos should reflect that - day and night, rain or shine.
Important Numbers
